Since the end of December I’d felt like a fly trapped between the screen and a window pane; searching in vain for a rip in the screen or a crack in the glass, some way to escape the possibility that I’m really locked in. Then the storm hit. I lay drowning on my back in the flooded sill, kicking my legs and flapping my wings, trying to breathe and make sense of it all. Not only was I trapped, I was going to be killed in here.
The rain finally subsided and I was able to climb to a place of safety. Instead of continuing to struggle, I let the warm breeze fill my exhausted lungs, the blanket of sunshine dry my battered wings, and the blue sky soothe my many tired eyes. I get caught off guard by the left over rain drops that occasionally drench me all over again, but I’ve figured out they won’t kill me.
The distant sky is bruised with storm clouds, threatening to overtake the consoling sunshine. I am frightened, but instead of worrying about the storm’s fury, I find hints of hope and eagerness for it. Maybe it is THIS storm that will be powerful enough to rip the screen out of the window and free me to fly.